No Pain So Great
by Lexie-H
Summary: The closest that George Weasley could come to comprehending loss, was that he had an ugly great tear that gashed across his chest, weeping blood and misery every so often, to match the wound where his ear once was. A story of grief and hope. RR please!
1. Part One

**Disclaimer****: All characters, settings and concepts you recognise as part of the world of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. I just like to play with her ideas**

**Note****: Before you say Allie is completely AU, I will point you to the line in **_**Half Blood Prince**_**, page 307 (British/Australian addition) where George mentions "a very pretty girl in the paper shop..."**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief _

- Aeschylus

The closest that George Weasley could come to comprehending loss, was that he had an ugly great tear that gashed across his chest, weeping blood and misery every so often, to match the wound where his ear once was.

Loss was that patch of mold that crept across the ceiling over the dinner table, spreading so slowly and surely that no one noticed it until it had overrun the room. Loss was a swarm of doxies, slowly but surely nibbling away at their entire existence until everything around him began to crumble into little pieces: memories, reminders, a photograph, a noise in the dark that sounded like his brother's snore…

And this loss was contagious: it permeated everything and everyone he had ever known.

The dinner table was silent, heavy under its weight – until his mother accidentally called him Fred, and it was all he could do to escape.

**- - -**

Hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his trousers, George surveyed the surrounding hills and fought his rising despair. Moments ago, he had burst out of the back door of the Burrow, intent on escape. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, nothing had been the same – and nothing was going to be the same, ever again. They'd won: Voldemort was gone… but George couldn't help but feel guilty in his knowledge that he would exchange this victory for his brother's life, without even a moment's hesitation, every single time.

No one could look him in the eyes anymore. He'd moved back home immediately: their flat above the shop in Diagon Alley was too painful a place to be, for now. Everywhere he turned, he found constant reminders of his partner in crime, his best friend, his twin… And George couldn't cope with all that, just yet. Every time his bedroom door opened, he would glance up, unable to suppress his continual expectation that Fred would lope through the door, grinning. The mirror lay covered, now: even to look at himself was a constant, painful reminder of what he had lost.

Mum couldn't look at him without tears appearing in the corners of her eyes; his father too could only gaze longingly at his face, the ache in his heart painfully clear. No parent should have to bury a child: and yet, to make matters worse, it was as if Fred's ghost wandered the house as George, a constant reminder of what the Weasley family had lost.

Nothing would ever be the same again.  
And no one understood.

_No one understood what he had lost. _

There would be no more pranks, no more mysterious explosions, no more escapades to the village… No more laughter, no more lazy days in the back room of the shop together. Only memories.

George watched as his worn shoes followed the equally worn path, threaded along the valley, a little river of dust that turned to mud when it rained.  
It might have been minutes or hours. He had lost all sense of time now: all he knew was that it passed, sometimes slowly, painfully, and other times so quickly he scarce had time to draw breath.  
Time should have stopped, the day Fred died. It continued, to spite him, forcing him to go on, when all he wanted was to live in that one, single moment, before the curse had hit.

"I do say, are you all right?"

George turned, startled, to find he was at the village now, a lone, stationary figure staring blankly around the park, as though he wasn't really seeing it.  
There was a large, brutal burn mark in the yellow slide. That had been Fred, years and years ago, before Hogwarts, when they'd blown up…. Merlin, he couldn't even remember what had caused that burn-mark now.

A girl stood beside him, blinking up at him enquiringly. She rested her long arms on the Gryffindor red bicycle, waiting.

George gave a jerky, non-committing nod. "Yes – sure."

Her brow furrowed beneath her fringe, the colour of the muddy brook that bordered the playground on one side. Her calculative gaze seemed to settle on the left side of his head, but only for a moment, and when she glanced back to his face, the girl met his eyes easily, as though his ear was still there. Suddenly, a look of recognition flashed across her face.

"You're one of the twins, aren't you? Fred or George? I don't know if you remember me? I'm Allie Pickering – from the paper shop?"

George _did_ remember; he and Fred had spent many idle afternoons in the village, and Allie in particular had been very taken with his and Fred's card tricks.  
Allie looked up at him expectantly, blinking her blue eyes patiently. George surrendered a small and very reluctant smile, to be polite.

"George. I do remember, yeah – how've you been, Allie?"

Allie shook his hand, shrugging. "All right. I haven't seen you around for a while. Been busy?"

George considered telling her, but in this moment, in Allie's mind at least, Fred was still alive and well, and George savoured the presumption.

"Yeah, really busy. We started our own joke shop up in London a few years back," he told her casually.

Allie's eyes lit up. "Really? That's brilliant, you'll have to take me there some time."

"Sounds like a plan," he replied, more out of habit than anything else.

Allie nodded seriously. "Right – well I'd best be getting home then, before dark." She gestured to the sun, which was indeed sinking. Later than he thought, not that it mattered. But Allie was speaking again. "And you'd best make a start of it too."

George nodded. "Probably. Good night then."

Allie climbed onto her bike, grinning. "Yes, good night. Say hi to Fred for me!"

George watched her ride away, feeling all at once sad and relieved.

"Allie says hi," George murmured into the night, more to Fred than anyone else. It was his way of asking forgiveness, really.  
It had been nice, to pretend for a few minutes that he wasn't gone.  
George turned and made his way back through the hills. As soon as he could be sure that no one could see, he turned on the spot and Apparated back to the Burrow.

**- - -**

As George approached the house, footsteps heavy, he heard muffled voices. Harry and Ginny, sitting on the back step, talking. They stood when they saw him, and George couldn't miss their entwined hands. 

"Hey," Ginny greeted him softly. "I wouldn't go inside right now, if I were you. Amos Diggory has just '_popped over to pay his respects'_."

She scowled and George turned his gaze from his sister to Harry, eyebrows raised.

"She's right," he agreed. "You don't need to be in there. Besides, Ron and Percy are in the kitchen."

Ron, much to the disappointment of his parents and Hermione, did not seem to so ready to forgive his wayward brother as the rest of the family.

"So what are you doing, then? " George asked, sighing.

Ginny gestured to the back step. "Waiting it out."

George nodded, gesturing for Harry and Ginny to resume their places before taking the step below them.

He glanced up at them, distracted. "So are you two… er…"

Ginny met his eyes unwaveringly. "Yes, we are," she told him proudly, tossing her hair back like a mane.

George blinked. "I hope you know what you're doing, mate," he addressed Harry easily.

"George!"

"George? Is George home?"

Mrs. Weasley's voice carried through the house and out into the garden, making George wince. As one, Harry and Ginny groaned.

"Run," Harry advised him quietly. "We'll cover for you."

**- - -**

Some days, it was too much effort to get out of bed. Instead, he lay there in the darkness, Fred's face in his mind's eye, watching him apprehensively.

He knew it was Fred for the simple fact that his twin still possessed both his ears.

Sometimes, it was easier to forget than to remember. Those were the times when he descended into dreams of his past life, full of hearty pranks and brilliant schemes. Of Wizarding Wheezes and collapsible swamps, Catherine Wheels and mayhem.

To exist now inside all this grief was an alien concept for George, who had been raised on a steady diet of laughter and mischief.

So George allowed himself to become consumed by memories. He would lie for hours at a time, conversing with his mind, which formed the shape of his intangible brother before him. Other times, when the words ran out and his voice became hoarse, he would simply observe the moving images, of twin boys no more than ten with soot-streaked faces and toothy smiles, Quidditch matches and night time escapades, of racing down hidden corridors (courtesy of the Marauders) with Filch in hot pursuit.

Only now, the hidden corridors existed only in his imagination, as did the second, fire-haired child.

"George. George?"

Someone was shaking his shoulder gently, and he peeled open his eyes to find Harry leaning over his bedside with a tray of food. It was obviously his turn to oversee George's meal, for Mrs. Weasley had them all rostered for the task, now days.

Harry watched in silence as George ate, emerald eyes unreadable.

George finished, pushed the tray away and leant back once more to close his eyes.

"George?"

Out of simple courtesy, George opened an eye.

Harry gripped the trap in both hands, his face hopelessly awkward. "Listen," he said quietly, almost urgently, and his voice was low, as though he feared to be overheard. "Dumbledore… Dumbledore once told me – _it does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live_. Look, I know it isn't really my place to say, but… everyone's struggling, George. I don't think your family could cope if they lost you too."

George blinked, but remained silent. Instead, he simply nodded – a nod that Harry took as a dismissal, for he gave George a ghost of a smile and carefully left the room.

The next morning, George Weasley got out of bed, threw open his curtains and watched as light spilled into the room. Then, he joined his family at the table for breakfast.

**- - -**

Mum was crying again. George watched her, swallowing hard, as she leant over the kitchen sink and _cried_. Great sobs shook her body, face crumpled behind her hands.

His eyes stung, and without a further word, he left the house, running blindly out through the gate and toward the hills, breathing in great, sharp gasps that pained his chest, as though the air itself, and his ability to breathe, was setting fire to his throat and lungs.

It had been all his stupid fault, of course. He knew that today of all days, he should have lain low, succumbed to the steady, dull ache that was Fred's absence. Now, that ache beat louder and louder the further he ran, until George realised it was his heart.

He had known better; of course he had, but the need, for once, to _not_ be overwhelmed with despair had driven him out of isolation – and the first thing that Mum had done was burst into tears.

George collapsed against the hillside, sinking into the long, sun-warmed grass as he squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at his chest. Slowly, his breathing slowed into a steady, soothing rhythm and the swell of emotion began once again to ebb. It would be back, George knew, as steady as the tide itself, but for now he had some relief.

"Happy birthday to us, happy birthday to us…"

There: he'd done it.

He was another year older, and so far from being any wiser that it was laughable.

And Fred… Fred, who would be forever twenty…

"It's your birthday, is it? George – right?"

George startled, eyes snapping open as he sat up. He had not realised he had company. Swallowing, Moody's '_constant vigilance!_' echoing in his mind, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, hoping that she assumed the sun had made them water.

He leant forward to meet Allie's eyes. She crouched beside him on the grass, checking for dampness, before leaning back and stretching her legs out before her.

"So," she said conversationally. "If it's your birthday, what are you doing up here?"

For a complete stranger, she was unusually forward. Not that George didn't expect for girls to be blunt with him – _Merlin_, he didn't think he'd ever meet anyone so blunt as Angelina Johnson, or for the matter, his own sister! And yet, from someone he knew very little of…

The strangest thing of all was that coming from Allie, the question did not seem so intrusive as if it had come from anyone else.

"Thinking," he replied absently, his eyes unconsciously measuring her. She had, he noted, a rather pointy nose. "What about you?"

Allie indicated the bottom of the hill, and George saw her bike resting there amongst the long grass. "Just going to visit my grandmother, and then I saw you. Figured I should make sure you were still alive."

Although unintended, the words compressed against his chest, suffocating, tearing at George's heart. He ducked his head, trying to hide the anguish undoubtedly written across his face.

Nevertheless, Allie seemed to realise something was wrong. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his lower arm.

"What ever happened to that brother of yours, George?" she asked softly, and although George had many brothers, there was no doubt as to whom she spoke of.

"He died," George replied shortly, voice barely louder than a whisper as he stared out across the countryside, toward the tumble of trees that indicated the Burrow.

"Oh," she replied, even quieter, without feeling the need to elaborate. Instead, she slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

George sighed, summoning his courage to meet her eyes. They were concerned, something George found strangely touching, and he managed a small smile of reassurance. "S'alright."

She returned his smile tentatively as he squeezed her hand in reply.

Allie hesitated. "George," she said, haltingly. "I – I know it's your birthday… and I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, but…" It seemed that suddenly, words were no longer enough. George watched, dazed, as Allie leant over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Happy birthday," she breathed, squeezing his fingers one more time before gently untangling their hands and setting off down the hill without a backward glance.

George watched her go thoughtfully. It was funny, he thought, that she, the perfect stranger, was the first to wish him that. A gentle breeze danced across the hillside, brushing against his lips as it passed.

It hadn't been much - a small, simple gesture – but on today of all days, it made all the difference.

"Who was she?"

George sighed as Ron's voice appeared behind him, quiet yet commanding. Standing up, he turned to face his youngest brother, eyeing him sardonically.

"Of all the people Mum could send, she chose _you_? Not even Ginny?"

Ron shrugged. "Couldn't find her, she and Harry have vanished without a trace," he suddenly scowled, before adding fairly, "At least I didn't interrupt. So who is she?"

"A girl Fred and I met once, in the village. Allie."

Ron grinned. "A Muggle, then? Just wait until Dad hears!"

George raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.

"I don't think you want to do that," he chided his brother gently. "Not if you don't want Dad to be entertained by the story of the time you and Hermi-"

The colour drained swiftly from Ron's face. "You've got nothing on me, and you can leave Hermione out of it," he retorted hastily, and although the matter was not raised again, George had the distinct impression Ron was going to keep his mouth shut.

They made their way back to the Burrow in a companionable silence. As Ron preceded him up the back stair, he paused and turned, meeting George's eyes steadily.

"By the way – happy birthday."

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**Note****: I hope you all liked this. It's been in the works for quite a while now, and there is a second installment coming shortly. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reviews are always greatly appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Lexie**

**P.S: See this line? "Her calculative gaze seemed to settle on the left side of his head, but only for a moment. " It isn't mine! My lovely friend Paddy suggested the addition in a review!**


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings and concepts you recognise as part of the world of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. I just like to play with her ideas**

**Note: Before you say Allie is AU, I will point you to the line in _Half Blood Prince_, page 307 (British/Australian addition) where George mentions "a very pretty girl in the paper shop..."**

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_The pain passes, but the beauty remains _  
– Pierre Auguste Renoir

The mirror in the corner of their bedroom had stood covered for months, thrown into darkness by the curtains that seemed to have hung over the window for an age. Drawing a deep breath, George tugged at the smooth white fabric – a sheet from Fred's empty bed – and watched it fall, material pooling around his feet.

George watched his reflection apprehensively. Without the ear, his face seemed strangely lopsided – and yet, because of its absence, he could look at himself. Fred had had two ears; he only had one; and that significant detail became the difference between being able to cope and not cope.  
Until he shifted his head, and in the blink of an eye, the reflection transformed to become that of his twin, staring out at him. George gulped, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Fred mimicked him, making him smile slightly. They met each other's eyes steadily.

"I miss you."

The words escaped George's lips before he had even thought them through, and yet, in an instant they, and his brother's steady gaze, seemed to be enough. A little of the heaviness lifted from his heart.

"I don't really know how to live without you. I don't know how to be George without a Fred. It's hard – too hard. But I need to, you know?"

Fred blinked and shrugged slowly.

"I'm not going to forget you. You'll always be here. But I need to start living again."

"Who are you talking to?"

Charlie stood in the doorway, muscular arms crossed across his chest, wearing a skeptical expression. George read his older brother's worry and rolled his eyes. Charlie looked taken aback.

It was clear to him, then, that his family obviously thought he was losing it. His father and Bill, maybe not, but the hidden secret behind Charlie, Percy and Ron's glances suddenly became clear, and Ginny's concern, which she didn't even bother to hide, was suddenly thrown into perspective.

"I'm not cracking up, you know." His voice was surprisingly steady and reassured.

Charlie nodded slowly. "All right," he agreed, as though not quite convinced.

George turned back to the mirror. Fred had vanished, and in his place, once more, stood George's own reflection. He absently tucked a stray strand of hair over the hole where his ear had once been.

"A-actually, I was just contemplating a new haircut."

Charlie, if possible, looked even more surprised. "Good for you, George," he said suddenly, nodding encouragingly.

George glanced, once again, at the mirror. His reflection stared back, impassive. Then, only for a second, the eyes of his brother met his, and George nodded.

"Yes. Good for me."

**

- - -

**

George selected a gnome, frowning.

"I think I might go in to the shop, tomorrow," he said lightly, as it squirmed and growled in his hands.

Four pairs of eyes stared at him, startled. Ron and Harry were both helping in the annual de-gnoming, and Hermione and Ginny were lazing on the lawn watching them.

Only moments ago, a particularly nasty gnome had attached itself to one of Ron's fingers, and he had thrown it off, swearing, while Hermione and Ginny laughed.  
"It's not a blood spectator sport," he'd growled, which had only seemed to make the girls' laughs louder.

Now, Ron turned to him, concerned. George met their surprise and shrugged. Harry immediately shrugged in response, while the girls watched on, Ginny puzzled and Hermione bighting her lip.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked softly.

George nodded, flinging the gnome around and sending it soaring over the hedge. "I think it's time."

Harry's head was lost in a mound of bushes, but Ron met his eyes.

"If – if you'd like," he offered hesitantly, "I c-could go with you?"

George smiled, smacking his little brother on the back, right between the shoulder blades.

"Yeah," he accepted. "That'd be good."

**

- - -

**

The shop was dark – Arthur had boarded up the windows at least six months ago, and no one had been inside since. Dust lay in a thick blanket over the shelf-tops. Ron sneezed beside him, before dusting his hands.

"Right – first thing's first, right? Let's get some light in here."

The boys spent the morning giving the shop a thorough spring clean – an undertaking that proved drastically more difficult than either George or Ron had expected. Their fortunes were improved, however, when Hermione stopped by with one of their mother's household cleaning books.

"Oh!" Her exclamation rung through the shop, and Ron was beside her in an instant, peering into the little cage she stood beside sadly.

"George, the pygmy puffs are dead!" Ron yelled, making Hermione wince. Tact had never been one of Ron's strong points.

However…. "Oh!" she exclaimed again, bending down and gingerly reaching into the cage. Her hand withdrew with a tiny ball of fluff, which quivered feebly. "Not all," she corrected softly, patting the pygmy puff gently as George joined them.

While the boys finished, Hermione took the cage over to the magical menagerie, where it transpired that quite a few of the little creatures had survived, if only just.

That evening, they had a quiet funeral in the corner of the garden for the little animals who hadn't been so lucky.

A week later, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes reopened, much to the delight of Diagon Alley shoppers who once again flooded the shop, noting with pleasure that nothing seemed changed. There was one new addition, however. On the wall above the counter, the night before the Grand Re-opening, the Weasley family, Harry and Hermione had gathered – Fleur with a squalling baby in her arms – to unveil a memorial to their missing brother. The portrait of Fred Weasley, Co-conspirator and Co-founder of _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_, now watched over the shop, cheerfully chatting to his brothers, flirting with the sales assistant Verity, and brightly answering any questions the customers saw fit to pose to him.

**

- - -

**

"Allie!"

There was only one girl in Ottery St Catchpole with a Gryffindor-red bicycle. He watched as the distant figure applied the breaks, skidding to a halt before peering around for the source of the call. George jogged toward her awkwardly, but she grinned and waved.

"Hello there!" she called. "I haven't seen you around in ages. I was beginning to think you'd done a runner on me!"

George reached her, slightly breathless. "How've you been?"

Allie shrugged, dismounting the bike gracefully. "All right. Been minding the shop for my folks a lot. _Thrilling_ stuff…"

George grinned. "Good. I'm glad you've been enjoying yourself."

Allie met his eyes bravely. "You seem… better," she observed, scrutinizing him.

George nodded. "Yeah – yeah, I am. Well – I'm not, but it's getting easier."

Allie smiled. George watched her, suddenly uncertain. He liked her quite a bit, he'd decided, and after his birthday… Although it had taken him months to build up the courage, he suddenly felt ready.

"Do you fancy a walk?" he asked shyly.

Half an hour later, ice creams in hand, George found himself seated upon that same hill, overlooking the distant Burrow with Allie once again by his side.

"I'm glad we decided to do this."

"Me too. I don't think I've felt so… alive… in ages, you know?"

They got along extremely well, it transpired; she was bright and funny and he enjoyed her company immensely – not to mention her quiet understanding.

There seemed to be just one secret hanging between them, now. George drew a deep breath, preparing to bridge the gap.

"Allie?" he asked, eyes searching. "Can you keep a secret?"

Allie met his eyes, her own sparkling. "Well it depends," she replied thoughtfully. "If it's a secret that's meant to be kept, it's safe with me."

All things considering, that was probably the most honest answer that George could have hoped for – had she sworn complete secrecy, he wouldn't have trusted her, because complete and unconditional secrecy was a very unlikely thing. This, however – George was mildly impressed, especially as Allie was offering no apologies.

He nodded. "That's good enough for me."

Allie frowned, and George could tell that she hadn't been expecting that response. It struck him that someone was blunt as Allie was probably not everyone's favourite confidant. "But – what if it isn't meant to be kept…?"

George shook his head, unable to resist laughing gently. "Allie… Even if you told, I don't suppose anyone would believe you, anyway."

She was intrigued now; he could see it in the way she leant forward toward him eagerly, although her gaze remained steady and calm.

"So what's this big secret, then?" she asked when he had remained silent, thoughtful, for too long. She smiled playfully. "That you secretly fancy me?"

"That," he replied, off-handedly, licking his lips. "But – but something else, too. You see, Allie – _Merlin, I've never explained this to a Muggle before_-"

"A Muggle?" Allie interrupted, affronted, but George pressed a finger to his lips and she grew silent, although she eyed him suspiciously now.

"I suppose it's just better to say it, right?"

Allie nodded, arms crossed skeptically.

"All right, then," he agreed, drawing a deep breath. "Allie, I'm a wizard, I can do magic, and I own a magical joke shop and uh… You're _laughing_?"

Allie nodded, rocking back and forth as her eyes watered with mirth. "I thought you had something serious to tell me! I've always said those card tricks of yours were magic," she murmured, leaning against him.

George leant away, frowning. "No, I _am_ serious."

Allie sat up, the laughter dying on her lips, although it still lurked uncertainly behind her eyes. "All right," she agreed. "If you're serious… prove it."

George frowned. "I'm probably breaching that stupid convention, aren't I?" he wondered aloud before shrugging. "Stand up then, I'll show you."

George stood himself and offered her a hand, pulling to her feet beside him easily. Her hand was warm and soft in his, and with the other, she absently brushed grass off her denim shorts.

"I'm going to take you to my shop, all right? Remember I said I would?"

She shrugged, still disbelieving, and George watched her measuringly now, praying that she would trust him. He needed for her to see this, because even though she somehow understood him, there was so much she would not understand _about_ him, unless he could show her.

"You might feel a little squashed for a minute, though."

_Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! _he thought.

Crack!

**

- - -

**

Allie released his hand and stumbled back into the counter.

"_Shit_," she swore, eyes widening as they took in the large, dark shop, which to her eyes was undoubtedly a maze of shadowy shelves. "What the hell is going on? I don't even know you, George! _Shit_. Where am I?"

George stepped backward, away from the counter to give her some space. The last thing he wanted was to have her feel threatened.

_Merlin_, he'd probably blown it, now. Internally, he kicked himself for being so stupid. The first girl he had _really, truly liked_, and he was scaring her off with his immaturity. Why hadn't he thought this through some more?

George pressed a hand to his forehead, imagining Fred laughing at him, his brother's figure doubled over in the doorway to the back room, a shadowy memory blurring with the darkness.

_Light. They needed light. _

George clapped his hands, just once, and the shop illuminated. The laughing Fred vanished as Allie stared at the ceiling, startled.

"My name is George Weasley, and you're standing in my shop," he told her steadily. "I'm a wizard, I can do magic…"

"But why did you have to tell _me_ about it?" she hissed, clutching at the counter for support, still, and watching him, alarmed.

"Because I fancy you," George shot back, holding her gaze seriously. "I like you, and I know this complicates things for you, but I can't… we can't… unless you knew. You need to know who and what I am, and not care. Please?"

There was a hint of pleading to his voice now, and Allie's expression softened. For a moment, it had been obvious she didn't trust him, but this seemed to be the boy she knew, and the knowledge relaxed her; he wasn't some madman, after all. Releasing the counter, she stood alone now, gazing around the shop with growing interest.

"Oh George. I like you all the same… but things were a lot less complicated when you were the friendly boy from the village."

"I'm still the friendly boy from the village," he corrected, smiling as he took a step closer.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't move away.

"But you can do magic."

George shrugged. "Yes. I can do magic."

A sudden thought crossed his mind, and turning to the barrel of fake wands that stood between a shelf and the counter, he grabbed one, crossed his fingers and tossed it to her. Allie caught it, startled, as it transformed into a…. rubber chicken.

George sighed ruefully. "That was _supposed_ to be a bouquet of flowers," he apologized.

Allie grinned and tossed it back, watching as it turned back into the long, wooden stick and smiling as George returned it to the barrel.

"Better luck next time," she murmured, and all of a sudden they both laughed, surprised at each other.

"So – you can do magic, George Weasley. Real magic."

"I can," he agreed. "And you're a Muggle, Allie Pickering."

"You remembered!" she grinned, surprised. "What's a Muggle, then?"

"Someone who can't do magic."

Allie's smile widened. "Oh good, I thought it was something rude."

George laughed again, and was caught quite off guard when she moved closer again and pressed her smiling lips to his.

"George Weasley, I know you're a wizard, and I _don't care in the slightest_."

George gripped her arms, meeting her eyes searchingly. "Are you sure?"

Allie nodded, absolutely sincere. "I'm sure. Now take me home, please."

George glanced around the shop reluctantly. There was so much he wanted to show her – their advanced defensive magic range, and the disappearing hats, and the pygmy puffs, and…

"So long as I'm allowed to take you out for a drink tonight," he bargained, taking her hand in his.

Allie grinned again. "I think that could be arranged."

George nodded, pleased. "Hold on, then."

Crack!

**

- - -

**

"I – I could walk you home?" George offered quietly, as they sat once again on the hill. "I mean, we could Apparate, but I don't know where you live, and you know – someone might see."

"Apparate?"

"You know – how I took you to the shop."

"Is that what it's called, then? Apparate?"

George nodded. "Yeah – Apparating, yeah, sorry. I probably should have explained that a little better."

Allie shrugged. "It doesn't matter," she replied off handedly. "You'll learn. Besides, you got the squished feeling part right."

George laughed. "Just wait til you try Flooing."

Allie shook her head, brown ponytail bobbing. "I don't even want to know."

George lay back and rolled over onto his side to watch her. She lay beside him on the grass, propped up on her elbows, watching the view thoughtfully.

"I'm so glad you didn't run away screaming," he told her honestly.

Allie glanced at him, startled. Eyes dancing, she leant up and kissed his cheek. "I think you've surprised me one too many times today for that to happen, George."

"By the way – my name isn't George."

She slapped him.

George raised his hands in defence, laughing. "I'm joking, I'm joking!"

**

- - -

**

_George sat on the old swing set, drifting idly, backwards and forwards. Something told him he was waiting for Allie, although he couldn't quite be sure what. Suddenly, there was the squeak of someone taking a seat beside him, and George looked over grinning, except that instead of Allie, it was…_

_Fred. _

_Fred grinned. "Long time no see," he murmured. _

_George leapt to his feet, reaching over to grab Fred into a rough embrace. Head buried in Fred's shoulder, he inhaled his brother's familiar smell. All of a sudden, though, he seemed to come to his senses, and they released each other and drew away. _

_"What are you doing here?" he asked, dazed. _

_His twin shrugged, resuming his seat on the swing. "Just wanted to see how you were."_

_George frowned, shrugging, but despite his apparently calmness, everything seemed to come tumbling out. After all, George didn't know how much time they had. "Good enough. Have you seen Allie? Remember her, from the paper shop? And Percy's still being a pompous arse, but every one else can look me in the eyes now… and the shop's open again. Ron's helping me for now, although he's not as good as you…"_

_Fred listened, eyes glistening as he nodded. _

_"How's Mum?" he asked quietly. George looked away._

_"She's all right ... Dad, too. Coping, which is better than they were. We're all fine, except we're not, because you're not with us, but we're starting to... I don't know. We're starting to try, again... For you, because we know you wouldn't want us to be like this, even though we need to be."_

_Fred met his eyes levelly. "I think about you all, every day."_

_They held each other's gaze, nodding, both lost in thought. There was so much to say, and yet nothing at all, as everything passed between them unspoken; the way it always had been. _

_"I miss you more than anything in the world," George said suddenly. "But I can be happy, too… Even though you aren't with me, anymore. Well, you're always there, just…"_

_Fred smiled, reaching across to grip George's shoulder. "You need to be happy, George. You'll be all right without me, now."_

_George nodded, wiping a hand across his eyes. He hadn't even realised he was crying. _

_"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I'll be all right without you." _

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**Note: That was the second and final installment. I hope you all enjoyed it, and as always I would love to hear your thoughts, criticisms and appreciations – all feedback is most welcome! **

**I know Allie featured much more prominently in this second installment, but that is because she characterizes George's healing process, so you know… She's there for a reason! But thank you so much for the feedback I've had for her in particular, as I've never written an OC before and you've been most helpful in shaping her!**

**You guys have been absolutely wonderful, I'd like to thank all my reviewers once again, I feel so lucky to have such a strong support basis! Thank you for reading and reviewing,**

**Lexie**


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